Happy Birthday Sherlock
by letmel0veyoudown
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. Pre-Slash. Suicidal ideals. This is my first story so I'm crap at summaries. John figures out that he's never spent one of Sherlock's birthdays with him until Mycroft brings it up. He still doesn't know how to cope months after Sherlock's 'death.' Rated M just to be safe.


It's been about half a year since Sherlock was gone.  
It's been about three months since Mycroft stopped calling.  
It's been about four months since Greg started talking to him again.  
And it's been about two since Molly could talk to him and look at his face.  
But that's normal, kinda, right? When someone dies. No one likes to talk about it, and they just try going back to normal. Everyone else did. John didn't.

He seemed to always forget, especially when he was half asleep in the mornings. Always pulling out two mugs, and making two different cups of tea. Then suddenly remembering, and that's why there's only two mugs in the flat right now. One in the front, and one stashed in the back so that John wouldn't forget. But even then the first time he called out, "Sherlock, what did you do with all the bloody mugs, this better not be for an experiment. You know I need my tea Sh-"  
And he stopped. But he made two cups of tea anyways, and left the other by Sherlock's chair. Just in case.

So when he woke up early on this particular Sunday morning to find of all bloody people calling him, he went back to sleep. An hour or two later he got out of bed and made tea. Once he was in his chair watching crap telly, his phone rang again. This time he actually picked up, "Mycroft, I thought we were done with this. I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want anything to do with you so please. Please Mycroft, leave me alone," and he hung up, slightly hurt and agitated.  
Five minutes later Mrs. Hudson comes up the stairs, different rhythm though. Not to drop by for tea, or just see if she could tidy up the flat. But someone's at the door with her, he had a visitor. John shook his head, trying to not deduce everything. Ella said he was trying to make up for Sherlock not being there.

So of course, Mrs. Hudson poked her head around the door and tentatively said, "Love, there's someone at the door for you."  
"Tell Mycroft to go away."  
"John that's no way to treat a guest is it not. I always did count on you to have the better manners, but I guess not anymore."  
"Fuck off Mycroft," John hadn't even turned around. He didn't want to see the git, he didn't want to breathe his air. To be honest, he probably would've punched him in the face if he can any closer.  
"You're reacting just like he did, surely your therapist has read into that hasn't she. Along with you starting to practice your deduction skills."  
John turned around this time, just to see that Mycroft looked the same as ever, maybe gained a pound or two. He sighed, if Sherlock had such a hard time making his brother go away, he didn't think he'd have a better chance.  
So he went along with it, even if this wasn't the Holmes that he wanted in his flat, the Holmes that should be living in this flat, the Holmes that should be living in general. But he could deal with it for five minutes.

"What do you want Mycroft? Are you going to offer me a job again? More money to help with the rent? Oh wait, how about a new flat? A new life? How about a home in a different country?" Mycroft glared, "But oh wait! You're just not actually the government no matter what your brother liked to say. You can't just make everything magically better, especially when you're the one who fucked it up."

It was silent for a few moments, and John rubbed his face with his hand, and he looked up starting to say something. But Mycroft got to it first, "Do you know what today is John?" Games John thought, he rolled his eyes, "My lazy Sunday that you're interrupting." "You really are trying my patience John, I'm assured that you're intelligent enough to not want to test mine - even if I'm not the heart of the British government." "Yeah, yeah, get on with it then," John waved his hand. There was no point in this was there. It would be 6 months in about 10 days though. 22 days until a year that he's met Sherlock. There's no significance in this day to John. It was just another bloody day without Sherlock.

"You never were around with him last year at this time. Not that he'd mention it anyways, but," Mycroft seemed to be hesitant, he even twiddled with his umbrella's handle, "today's his birthday."  
John's emotions went up a bit, then back down. He never even spent a birthday with the man that spent so much to him, how sad was it that he didn't even know his flatmates birthday. "Okay, and?" John looked up to Mycroft from his chair. Mycroft could deduce like his brother (but not better of course, not even close) and he could see the tired in the ex-soldiers eyes. They were worse than the weeks coming back to London before meeting Sherlock. He had nothing to lose at that time, and Sherlock did save him in more ways than shooting a cabbies could ever repay him for.

"I was going to go to his grave today, I merely wanted to invite you with me."  
Oh, John thought. The guilt flooded him like waves. Mycroft was Sherlock's brother and he was just trying to be nice, but he snapped because he can't even control his temper. He can't control his own emotions because why should he if there really was no on-  
"No need for that Dr. Watson. I'll be in my car, I assume you'd want to change." John looked down at this pajamas with a sigh.

When he got up, Mycroft was already gone. He walked into the bathroom and freshened up. When he looked in the mirror he didn't see himself anymore. He hasn't even shaved in a week. He picked up his razor and got rid of his stubble, even going to his grave, John wanted to look like he did before. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was still filled with Sherlock's things. All his hair products and whatever else was in there. Though, he did get rid of his toothbrush. John was still a doctor, Sherlock should not use that when he gets back.  
Because he will get back. John knows this. He feels as if, if Sherlock was gone John would've been gone too.


End file.
